Matchmaker, Matchmaker
by Zane's Girl- Jo
Summary: Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. Find me a find, catch me a catch. Matchmaker, matchmaker, look through your book and make me a perfect match. We all know what this is from. JO.


**Matchmaker, Matchmaker**

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena **

**Summary: ****Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. Find me a find, catch me a catch. Matchmaker, matchmaker, look through your book and make me a perfect match. We all know what this is from. JO.**

_Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match._  
_Find me a find, catch me a catch._  
_Matchmaker, matchmaker, look through your book_  
_And make me a perfect match._

She hated him. And hated her.

It was bad enough that he had locked her into a marriage- an arranged marriage, at that- but did he _have_ to consult the_ matchmaker_?

According to her father, the matchmaker had seen faraway lands, an accepting family, a new culture. Something that rarely resulted in marriage. Or happy ones anyway. And while arranged marriages were outlawed in the rest of Oz, in Munchkinland, it was common to arrange marriages between families.

As her maid tightened the stays of her corset and added her petticoat, she thought back to her father's words.

"It's important that you make a good match, Elphaba. I've discussed this with Yackle, and she sees a very good marriage in your future. A distant land, a title perhaps, a loving family. You need to carry on the family name, Elphaba."

Once she'd dismissed her maid, she lay on her bed, staring out the window, thinking back on the matchmaker.

_Matchmaker, matchmaker, I'll bring the veil._  
_You bring the groom, slender and pale._  
_Bring me a ring, for I'm longing to be_  
_The envy of all I see._

She remembered the matchmaker- her earliest memory being when she clung to her mother's skirts, while her father and Yackle discussed marriage for her even then. The old woman had scared her even then, with her sagging skin, dark eyes, and gnarled hands. She had hid behind her mother, until Nanny took her out of the room. But she'd wondered about the woman that her parents were talking to.

Even now, she shuddered.

If she had to think about her arranged marriage, she hoped that at least it was a good one.

A nice match, a good catch.

She closed her eyes, hoping they picked a good catch.

_Please, make him a scholar, and as rich as a king. And... perhaps make him as handsome as... well, anything._

When her eyes snapped open, she sat up and sighed, before climbing off the bed and going downstairs.

_For Papa, make him a scholar._  
_For Mama, make him rich as a king._  
_For me, well, I wouldn't holler_  
_If her were as handsome as anything._

She wandered through the grounds, her mind going back time and again to the matchmaker. How had Mother allowed Father to go through with it? She had to have put her foot down. But then again,_ she _was a result of an arranged marriage.

The fact that she was the product of her mother and father's arranged marriage- their match- was appalling to her, and she shuddered. If she did marry, she wouldn't bring children into this world as the result from her match. She wouldn't. No matter if she and her husband were happy, she wouldn't have children; she didn't want them to be in the same place she herself was in.

She wouldn't.

_Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match._  
_Find me a find, catch me a catch._  
_Night after night, in the dark, I'm alone._  
_So, find me a match of my own._

Then again, she hoped he was young. So often, were girls married off to ugly old men, forced to be their trophies and caretakers until they died. She'd seen one too many of her friends married off to elderly men, and all were miserable. And if a girl was lucky enough to be married off to someone young, they ended up miserable.

She believed in true love, and hoped beyond hope that she would be lucky.

With any luck, Yackle would bring her her perfect match.

_Hodel, oh Hodel, have I made a match for you._  
_He's handsome! He's young! All right, he's 62._  
_But he's a nice man, a good catch. True? True!_  
_I promise you'll be happy. And even if you're not,_  
_There's more to life than that. Don't ask me what!_

But then again...

So often were the men girls were married off to drunks, abusers, cheats, swindlers and liars. Three of her friends had been married to drunks and abusers, and now one of them was dead because of it. Her husband of course had claimed that she was abandoning him, and had killed her for it.

Elphaba had been at the funeral, had seen the man her friend had married, and had vowed to never marry a man of that type.

She only hoped her future husband was kind.

_Chava! I've found him! Will you be a lucky bride!_  
_He's handsome. He's tall! That is, from side to side._  
_But he's a nice man, a good catch, Right? Right!_  
_You've heard he has a temper. He'll beat you every night._  
_But only when he's sober- so you're all right!_

And then Father had told her that he'd arranged her marriage with a family from the West- the Vinkus. And not just any Vinkun family.

The Vinkun royal family.

She was marrying the Vinkun Crown Prince.

So that would make her the Crown Princess of the Vinkus.

She was going to be royalty.

But it didn't sound appetizing.

_Did you think you'd get a prince?_  
_Well I do the best I can._  
_With no dowry, no money, no family background,_  
_Be glad you got a man!_

Early that evening, as she stood allowing Nanny to dress her- after a three hour fight- she thought back on Yackle and the match her father had arranged between her and the Crown Prince of the Vinkus. She didn't see the bright side to this arranged marriage. In fact, all she saw when she closed her eyes, was someone like her friends had married- old, ugly, abusive.

_Please don't let him be like that._

"Elphaba."

Her eyes snapped open, and she followed Nanny.

_Matchmaker, matchmaker, you know that I'm_  
_Still very young. Please, take your time._  
_Up to this minute, I've misunderstood_  
_That I could get stuck for good._

She glanced at Fiyero, butterflies erupting in her stomach.

Having just found out that Fiyero was her intended- her match- well, she didn't know what to think. It was obviously good, for he was handsome- at least to her. He was obviously rich, seeing as he was the Crown Prince of the Vinkus, and as for scholarly, well, she'd have to find out later. Although, from their recent conversations, he gave her the impression that he liked books.

After a moment, she looked up at his voice.

"Yes?"

"I said, would you like to dance?"

_Dear Yenta, see that he's gentle._  
_Remember, you were also a bride._  
_It's not that I'm sentimental._  
_It's just that I'm terrified!_

As she danced with Fiyero, she realized that perhaps, Father was right in consulting the matchmaker. Having only known Fiyero for a few short hours had proved her wrong.

Yackle had found her perfect match.

_Matchmaker, matchmaker, plan me no plans._  
_I'm in no rush. maybe I've learned_  
_Playing with matches a girl can get burned._  
_So bring me no ring, groom me no groom,_  
_Find me no find, catch me no catch._  
_Unless he's a matchless match_


End file.
